Chapter 64 - Forgiveness

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I edged slightly backwards as the arm that hitched behind Hilliel's back shifted. I knew what he was hiding without having seen it. I had eyes all over the forest.

"Me or him?" I asked.

Hilliel didn't reply, and it gave me the sense that he didn't know either.

He didn't need a gun to hurt me, he could have shifted and any attack he made would have been too fast for me to even consider dodging. He wasn't strong enough to go up against Kendrick without a weapon.

If he had run into Kendrick first, would he have tried to ask for forgiveness, or would he have used the weapon without giving his Alpha the chance to realise he was armed?

The thought of Kendrick being his target made my temper spike quickly, but I tried to control it.

I tried to be more reasonable than I knew he currently was.

I lifted my hands slowly to show him I had no intention of using my magic. Setting him alight or using the trees to strangle him were options, but nothing I did would compare to the speed of a werewolf with a gun.

If he decided to fire, I would be struck in a heartbeat. Even if the shot wasn't fatal and I managed to use my magic in the moments after, we would both just end up dead.

"Don't... Hilliel." I held my breath when his arm twitched again. "He won't forgive you if you hurt me."

Hilliel's weighted gaze lowered to the grass at my feet.

His eyes were sunken and dark, his face slightly sunken so his cheekbones were quite prominent, as though he had been struggling to sleep and eat for weeks. His jaw clenched as his eyes glassed over, the added water at the rims making them look heavier.

"He'll never forgive me anyway..." he muttered.

"There's a chance."

I wasn't sure if there was, but quickly realised I was right.

Kendrick had not done anything but keep him captive, and yet he had not even banned Hilliel from their pack. He seemingly didn't intend to kill Hilliel. I figured he had not calmed down yet and was waiting until then to address the doctor.

"Hilliel. Trust me... You don't want to use that."

My shoulders tensed when he straightened up, his arm falling to his side with his gun clasped in his hand, his forefinger resting against the trigger.

"You ruined everything," he whispered, glaring at the grass between us. "I was waiting... I was willing to keep waiting for him. I had been waiting for years. I was going to wait until he realised that he was supposed to be with me; that he kept coming back to me no matter who else he was with. And then you showed up."

That moment would have been the best time to try to grab the gun from him. He was distracted by his thoughts, caught up in his emotions and he didn't even realise I was focused on the weapon in his hand. Even if he realised what I was doing and reacted fast, there might have been a chance to freeze his hand around the gun before he could pull the trigger.

But I couldn't bring myself to do anything to him.

He was hurt... and I understood why.

I felt sorry for him. I felt like I had driven him to what he had done, and to this, and ruined another person. It just seemed like an automatic reaction to blame myself at that point. Bad things happened to people wherever I went.

"I just wanted you to leave. All I've done is help you since you arrived. I even got you back to the father you thought you lost. He said you were dangerous, but he could lessen the danger by erasing your memories. I didn't think you were dangerous; you never gave me any reason to think so, but I wanted you to be. I wanted to believe you weren't as kind as you seemed. It gave me a reason to get rid of you.

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